


disorganized

by magicianprince



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianprince/pseuds/magicianprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They do have a duty to look after each other, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	disorganized

From a young age, Maribelle has always been a healer.

Wielding a stave is clean, dignified, and useful. It is Maribelle’s strength, just as Chrom’s is his sword, and she’s perfectly happy with that fact. It’s only when Stahl, having previously been on his last legs, straightens up, dusts himself off and takes out three Risen in a row that she realizes: in using staves, she has improved as much as she ever will. There are more skillful enemies out there, and the thought of being unable to advance in order to surpass them is something Maribelle cannot find peace with.

“Well,” says Chrom, when she asks, “you could always try a weapon? I know it hasn’t really been your style, but at the very least it couldn’t hurt.”

He’s right, and war is a messy affair. As they have no lack of mages in their company, she begins to pick up a simple bronze axe during training. Her husband is ecstatic.

(“I’ll watch your back until you get the hang of it!” he says. Maribelle suspects he spends more time watching for blood.)

She has the chance to test out whether she’s made the right choice in weaponry when a group of bandits ambush their company. Maribelle tries her best to ignore that her axe is aimed at humans and not Risen—she’ll feel shocked and guilty later, she knows, but Henry will be there, lending comfort in that strange way of his.

As if summoned by a mere thought Henry slides up beside her, jostling her elbow with his, at her place near the edge of the fighting. 

“You look beautiful,” he says, using his thumb to wipe a smudge of red off of her cheek.

“Thank you,” she replies politely, “but could you possibly save it for later? And please,” she adds, exasperated, as an archer comes up on their right and she’s forced to swiftly tug Henry out of the path of an incoming arrow, “at least try to be more aware of your surroundings!”

“Aww, it’s so sweet of you to worry,” says Henry, cheerful even as he aims a hex at the enemy. He laughs wildly as the archer crumples to the ground in a cloud of purple haze.

Observing this, Maribelle can’t help but mutter, “How could I not worry?” but if Henry hears, then he only smiles wider.

“There’s another archer behind that bush and two more guys with axes behind him. Shall we?”

“We shall,” she says firmly.

The archer overhears their conversation and falls back behind the other two, but the ruffians in front are overconfident in the face of a lady and the thin man beside her. Maribelle attacks first, brandishing her axe. Henry finishes him off (“Line ‘em up!”) and Maribelle returns the favor a moment later, leaving only the archer.

He positions his feet shoulder-width apart and goes for Maribelle. Henry pulls her out of harm’s way easily. Another archer ducks through the bushes and runs to stand two paces away from the first.

“Be right back,” Henry announces, and darts over to attend to the new arrival.

Seeing as the man’s only weapon is a bow, Maribelle wins the fight without even receiving a bruise. Her clothes seem dirtier than they’ve ever been. Looking down grants her a view of the man whose life she’s just ended, and so Maribelle looks at Henry instead, turning towards her with his usual grin. There’s a dark stain on the sleeve of his shirt.

“You’re bleeding!” she exclaims, and hurries closer in order to examine his clothing.

“Oh, it’s not bad,” reassures Henry.

“Give me your arm,” Maribelle demands, and Henry promptly offers it to her. She ignores his stare and his indulgent smile and takes a look at the wound; he’s right, for once, and the scratch there hardly requires attention. When she’s finished with him, she releases his arm.

“Done?”

“I am. Let’s join the others,” suggests Maribelle.

“Yes sir!” Henry replies, bending to press his mouth to hers before taking off towards the center of the fray once more. Maribelle, sighing, follows close behind.

They do have a duty to look after each other, after all.


End file.
